


Wading in Worry: the Rise and Fall of a Pool of Tears

by DarkwingSnark, Moonbeamcat



Series: BTAS Ask-Blog Universe [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-14 15:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkwingSnark/pseuds/DarkwingSnark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonbeamcat/pseuds/Moonbeamcat
Summary: It was been a long couple of weeks for Jervis Tetch, as his life continues to change and alter around him. Looking-Glass worlds shatter and fall to pieces at his feet. Luckily for him, Jonathan Crane is there to help mend what has been broken.





	Wading in Worry: the Rise and Fall of a Pool of Tears

**Author's Note:**

> While one doesn't need to know nor follow the blogs in question, it may help to know this is all based on RPing that's been happening on tumblr. Main players are https://askthemadhatter.tumblr.com/ and https://askthescarecrow.tumblr.com/, with https://riddlesandqueries.tumblr.com/ and https://sassandkickass.tumblr.com being heavily referred to as well.
> 
> TW: Awkward talk of parents, mention of alcoholism

Gotham International Airport was a place of constant movement and life. At all hours of the day, bits and pieces of conversations would hit one's eardrums like a sea of sound. Talk of what meetings business men had would be drilled into their clunky cellular devices, family and old friends greeted one another-- their cries of reunions just another wave crashing upon those around them. People ran hither and thither, the stress of hoping they'll get through security in time to make their flight-- another crash against the rocky shore.

Jervis Tetch, the moment he landed back into the dreary city, decided that he could not put up with any of it. His senses ablaze, every sound a stab to his already withering and exhausted constitution. And thus, while it was far colder outside the building, the pitter patter of rain felt to be a better piece of scenery for the state the Englishman was in. (Every so often the honk of a car horn disturbing the melancholy melody.)

A perfect setting for a miserable man. 

Jervis clutched his duffel bag closer to his person, as if it was the only thing keeping him buoyant in the whirlpool of emotions inside him. Confusion, hurt, resentment, anger-- the dreadful realization that another chapter of his life had closed behind him. It was too new,  _ too raw. _ And if Jervis allowed himself, he could easily be swallowed whole-- drowning in his misery.

However... he was not yet in a place where he would be allowed this. It was improper to display his displeasure in life so readily. This was not a performance for the world to see. Sadness was personal, after all, despite how the vortex inside of him begged for its release. To be set free, to allow its destruction so that the tides within him could calm once more.

Jervis Tetch held back the tears he so desperately wished to shed. No... This was not the time. Time and him had quarreled last March, before he went mad, you know. And since then the Hatter was at his whims. No longer in control of what  _ was _ or  _ is  _ or  _ could even _ **_be_ ** **.** So the Englishman sat outside the airport, alone on the bench. Waiting for a passing ship in the night to stop-- for he could hear them pass by, foghorns blaring so other vessels knew not to crash about, lest they sink-- and to perhaps save him before he drowned. Before Time could dunk his head under the heavy waves, murdering the poor Hatter in return.

Jervis Tetch hadn't been difficult to spot. Despite his civilian attire, Jonathan would have known him anywhere, sitting there so dejected, not unlike a man waiting on death row. He was quite the sight, a man wallowing in depression, under a dreary sky, in the rain. The part of Jonathan who thrived on the misery of others took in the scene with a sadistic sense of pleased satisfaction. The part of Jonathan that,  _ for some ridiculous reason _ ,  **cared** about the Mad Hatter, found himself sharing and becoming lost in the sentiment of dread.

Jonathan pulled the truck up along the curb, on constant, paranoid vigilance considering the plates on said truck had expired a good six years prior, and tapped the horn to get Jervis' attention.

Jervis hadn't so much as flinched, let alone bothered to look up. Jonathan's frown deepened. He honked the horn a second time, laying on it a few seconds longer now-- his impatience and frustration quickly overthrowing any sense of trepidation over being spotted and recognized.

When Jervis still didn't stir, Crane clenched his teeth and grumbled, throwing open his door, grabbing an old newspaper from the floor of the truck to shield himself from the weather, and slid out, stomping around to stand in front of the man on the bench.

"Mr. Tetch.  _ Your carriage has arrived. _ " His tone dripped with tired sarcasm. 

The sound of a person suddenly upon him was enough to break through the fog of the Englishman's perception. Jervis jolted upward in his seat, staring straight into the eyes of the looming figure above him. He found his smile momentarily returning, as the warm feelings of his own reunion with his March Hare was enough to break through his sadness.

" _ Jonathan. _ " The duffle bag was pushed aside, quickly forgotten as a different lifesaver was now in his reach. Before Jonathan Crane could argue against it, Jervis jumped to his feet, throwing his arms around the taller man in a crushing hug-- burying himself into the comfort he had been craving for several weeks. "Oh... oh thank you for coming. I thought it may have been too sudden, and that perhaps you were already asleep." 

It was 2 in the morning by this point, after all. Most people with sensible schedules would have been to bed by then.

The absence of Jervis' arms around him had been to blame for his, even worse than usual, sleeping habits of late. Having them suddenly around him now rose within him that bubbling, tingling buzz that came with the lovesick condition, but it also brought with it a sense of relief, that first gulp of air after a bout of dreadful suffocation.

Crane let out a shaking sigh, easily blamed on the chill in the air, and brought up the newspaper to help shelter both of them from the rain...  _ not that it was doing much good now _ . His other hand was used to pat Jervis on the back, in a terribly awkward attempt at returning the affection.

"Yes, well. I'd like to believe you'd have done the same, had the situation been reversed. Now, I suggest we continue our...  _ reunion _ ... in the truck. You're becoming a soggy hatter."

It was true. While on the bench the man had been sheltered enough from the downpour, neither of them were under the covering that hung over it. The warmth of the other, in their embrace, had been enough to make Jervis forget about about the world around them completely. It was the reminder, and the fact they were out in the open-- rain drizzling against the brim of his tweed cap-- that the Englishman felt foolish.

"Ah, yes. I... I apologize. Let me collect my things so we can be on our way."

Retrieving said baggage was the equivalent of picking up a toddler-- both in bulk and weight. It was with a small grunt that Tetch swung it around his shoulder, ready to trek back into familiar territory. Jonathan waited for him patiently, newspaper spread out and welcoming, ready to help the sore and tired man to the parked vehicle.

It was an act that brought forth bittersweet feelings of gratitude and guilt.

The luggage took up most of the back seat. In the front, heat blasted from the vents, both warming and drying its somber inhabitants. Both remained silent as they pulled out of the airport, and it wasn't until they were well on their way back to the factory that Crane decided to break the silence and breach the subject.

"So." He began, a shrug serving as delayed punctuation when he couldn't find the words that should follow. "Do you, wish to talk about it?" Oh, that would have to do. 

" **No** ," Jervis responded automatically, perhaps sounding more like a child pouting than the grown man he was. However, it was with slow exhale that he tried to speak again, this time more reasonably. "No, I don't wish to. However, after summoning you from our home so late, it is only fair I disclose what happened. _ 'Mine is a long and sad tale[.]' _ " Hatter cited with ease, sighing just as the mouse had in the story, as he turned his attention to the driver. "I'm sure you saw my last post online, correct?"

"I did." Crane replied, simply, nodding once but not taking his eyes from the road, silently urging Jervis to continue.

Knowing that dear March knew a part of the ordeal was at least a comfort of some sort. Still, dread of having to recount what happened afterwards was enough to give the Hatter pause. Jervis swallowed down this trepidation, quite literally, as he carried on.

"Yes, well, after father's urgent request of the camera being shut off, this unfortunately wasn't the end of the matter." Oh, if only it  **had** been." Harsh words soon followed, as it had come to my attention that my sudden arrival had been perceived as a threat. That I was  _ 'keeping my parents hostage _ '." 

Paraphrasing aside, the sentiment had certainly been shouted at him from across the dinner table. Jervis could still see the sharp glare of his father--  _ face flushed in uncontrolled anger _ \-- as the older man had told him where his parents stood on  **many matters** . The Englishman visibly winced, recalling everything that had been told to him.

"They... they said I had  **embarrassed** them, Jonathan. That people  **blamed them** for what I had done, had  **become** . And perhaps things quickly became too heated, as I accused them of not having been there for me when  **I** , in turn, needed  **them** . That one mistake was all it took before they  _ snatched their love away, _ popping it in the bin." Here Jervis looked away again, staring at his grey leather gloves as he wrung his hands together in discomfort. "They... didn't argue against the fact, and proceeded to confirm that my suspicions were  **correct.** "

The words made his tongue feel heavy, stinging him as Hatter had time to relive them all over again. It was with a half sob that Jervis let his feeling spill forth, sieving through him violently as he choked and sputtered.

"Oh, oh God.  _ They don't want anything to do with me. _ " This was followed by another heave, burying his face into his hands as he continued his grief. "I... I said I'd go back to Arkham. I  **promised** I'll get **better** this time. But they... they said... they said my word meant  **NOTHING** to them!  _ Nothing whatsoever!  _ They kicked me  **OUT** , Jonathan. Out of the home I grew  **UP** in! Saying all  **THAT** !"

Crane remained silent for a while, staring intently at the road, not sure how to respond to... whatever this was. He certainly hadn't expected the waterworks, nor had he been prepared for them. He wondered, then, had Jervis been exposed to toxins, if this was what he'd have seen. Being disowned and abandoned by everyone he held dear. First, it had been Alice, and now, his very own parents. By now, it must have been beginning to feel like a hopeless inevitability that he would end up all alone and forgotten about. _ Perhaps he already felt this way. _

"You've simply outgrown reality, Jervis." Crane finally replied with a sigh and a sad shake of his head. "It was bound to happen eventually, you know. The world is filled to the brim with small minded oafs, imbeciles who can't even begin to comprehend the level of genius you possess. And do you know how the dull react to what they cannot comprehend? They  **fear it** , Jervis. Push it away, or attack it. Your brilliant mind was an asset to them up until they witnessed what it was truly capable of. It is no fault of yours they were unable to understand."

Crane had enough self awareness to realize that may not have been the most comforting speech. Not everyone took comfort in knowing they inspired fear in others, that was really only a,  _ him _ , thing. He shifted in his seat.

"But, um, if it means anything at all, you  **were** missed. Selfish as it may be, the thought of two more weeks with you absent...  _ well. _ I'm, pleased to see you again, and Gotham will always be there for you, of course. Even, when it feels like the rest of the world never was."

Jonathan Crane was a blunt man-- very precise and to the point in regards to his own opinions. Unlike Jervis, or even the likes of his now estranged parents, one always knew were they stood with him. There was no second guessing. No sugar coating of words simply to make someone happy. He was a man that dealt with actualities, thus what he said simply  **was** . A man that said what he meant.

And his March Hare had just told him he had been missed. Valued. That with him, he would not be tossed aside when things grew to be inconvenient. Why, the fact he had fetched him at all was proof of this matter. Despite the fact he had left without a true sudden notice, despite the fact he could see, with every new post on his blog how the Scarecrow had been thrown out of his own sense of order-- left alone... He still came for him at the drop of a hat. 

The familiar feeling of fluttering in his chest was another blow, reminding him of  _ why _ he had ran off to begin with. The pain of knowing, if he allowed himself, that the Mad Hatter would fall back into the painful trap. Of having his dear friend become his world-- he had lost so much already... Jervis didn't wish to lose him too.

" _ I'm sorry. _ " The Englishman muttered, still hiding himself away. He was truly apologetic, for many things. For having to rely on Jonathan like this, for having run off-- frightened by his own emotions and the inevitability of them. And, worse of all, for having tainted what was between them. Friendship with the professor was a wonderful experience, Jervis wanted it to be  _ enough _ .

"I don't know what you could possibly be apologizing for. Normally I'd need to use my toxins on someone to garner this level of open vulnerability from them. It's quite flattering, honestly." Crane was only about 30% joking with that one. His sadistically gleeful smirk fell into a hard set frown soon after, though.

"While I do admit learning you went to Edward with your woes before coming to me about them stung  _ ever so slightly _ ... I do suppose Edward tends to be a bit more  _ delicate _ when it comes to matters of emotion."

His eyes lit up in realization then, and he stole a quick glance over to Jervis.

"You know, if you'd rather, I could take you there, instead. It isn't too late."

If Crane's plan had been to scare the Englishman out of his tearful state, he had more than succeeded. It was with a jolt in his seat, that Jervis whipped his head in the direction of the man driving the truck-- eyes wide in panic as his wild thoughts ran rampant. 

"You... You spoke with Edward?" About HIM?  _ How much did Jonathan know? _ How much of the tea had been spilt, as it were? While he had faith in the Dormouse to keep  **SOME** stories to himself. Well... After the day he had, Tetch's trust in what he thought was reality had been fractured. Friends and relations could quickly become boojums, for all he knew! 

Jervis did his best to find his voice, but ultimately knowing that the Master of Fear would be able to pierce through any facade of his and find its source--  _ his fear _ . 

"What... what all did he say,  _ exactly? _ "

Jervis' sudden worry over the subject wasn't missed, and Crane had to fight back the bitterness that threatened to bloom over discovering the man was still so protective over the information, so set on Jonathan not knowing about it, so sure it was something Jonathan couldn't handle nor deserved to know.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry." Crane muttered with a roll of his eyes. "The only thing he told me was you didn't leave over something  _ I  _ did. After that it was decided it was none of my business. You do have a life outside of the factory, after all."

Being reassured of the Riddler respect of his secrets was enough to calm the Hatter's racing heart. While he never technically asked the man to keep things close to his chest, as it were, the fact he did so was enough to let him know his trust had been well placed after all. Still, this left room for another realization-- one that twisted the blade of guilt deeper into his gut.

"You... were concerned my leaving was  **your** fault?" While one could blame the man for sparking such strong feelings inside him, Jervis hadn't the heart to do so. The Englishman was aware of his faults, and his horrid habit of falling for those he shouldn't had always been  _ on  _ **_him_ ** _ and him  _ **_alone_ ** _. _ "I apologize, truly. I hadn't realized that my sudden disappearance would come off--  _ Oh, oh but of course. _ " 

The fact it seemed so obvious  **now** was just another hard slap to his senses.

"Jonathan, please understand, my leaving was entirely on  **me** . You... you've been wonderful, truly. Our sharing a home has been the most pleasurable experience I've felt for some time. You needn't worry about your standing with me, I cherish our time together  _ more than you'll ever realize. _ "

A harsh truth, even despite the sweetness of the sentiment.

_ And yet you still don't trust me. _ Was what sprung to mind instantly, almost violently. Clearly, this was merely another one of Jervis' sugarcoated falsehoods, words meant only to quell any misgivings-- it was fine. In the end, Crane reminded himself, it was  _ his _ fault Jervis didn't trust him. It was up to him to attempt to change it.

"Thank you, Jervis. I've grown accustomed to your presence, as well. Clearly. And, despite how busy it may appear I am, know I'm, almost always open to, talk. If you so need it. In the future."

Compliment him more.

"You look, nice, in that jacket.  _ I've always thought so. _ " He added, seemingly out of nowhere. 

Jervis blinked a few times at the sudden change in subject.

"... _ Pardon? _ " Oh... oh it was probably Jonathan attempting to cheer him up. To get his mind off of all his troubles-- a list that had been growing over the weeks, Jervis noticed. Well, despite the awkwardness of its presentation, the compliment hit its mark. Probably for the best the inside of the car was just as dark as the night sky, the likelihood of his flushed face going noticed near zero. 

"I...  _ Thank you _ . I rather enjoy what you're wearing as well." 

It had been hard to ignore the vibrant hue of orange peeking out from under the taller man's trench coat. It was recognizably a turtleneck that Jervis, himself, had picked up for him. The Englishman had noticed Jonathan had been wearing many of the clothes he had purchased for him while away-- a detail in the videos posted on the man's blog that he was sure only he alone had picked up on.

Jervis decided now was the time to bring up one of his peace offerings.

"I bought a few more things for you while I was in the shopping district of Warrington. A few more trousers, a couple of tops. Do let me know if anything needs to be let in. That is, if you find them  _ suitable _ , to begin with."

While the change in topic had been enough to let Tetch gather his wits about him, there was one last thing Jervis felt he needed to say. One last subject, before he would let everything drop-- happy to pretend that everything was right as rain once more.

"... Jonathan, would you allow me the intrusion of asking you something of a  _ personal nature _ ?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. Go ahead."

In all honesty, Jonathan was just glad to be off the subject of clothing and awkward compliments. The truth was, he'd been changing up his wardrobe both for comfort reasons... and because he'd gotten a few, unkind comments about his never changing attire over the, internet. The internet was full of rude children.  _ The internet was a mistake. _

And, should Jervis' inquiries be too personal, there was always lying.

Permission to trudge ahead with his query was all the Englishman needed before proceeding.

"What was your relationship with your parents like? I noticed you never speak of them, and had merely assumed they had passed. However... in light of what has  _ transpired... _ " Jervis paused, more so to find the words he wished to use to phrase what he wanted to say. "Well, it... it makes one  _ curious _ , I suppose. Were they...  **displeased** with your life choices, as well?"  
  


Ah. Yes, it made perfect sense he'd ask about that now. There was nothing here Crane felt needed hiding. He'd tell his tale, no matter how dull.

"I wouldn't know, to be honest." He replied with a shrug. He reached out and turned the heat down before explaining. "My mother, she was supportive to a fault. No matter what horrible thing I did, she was always there to defend my behavior. Even after I stuffed an active beehive in Larry Brennet's locker, and again when I dumped a cup full of young spiders into Tiffany DelGado's hair." He paused here to chuckle, quite obviously still amused by the memories. "Oh, yes, I was truly a little terror in my youth, you know. But mother stood by me all the while, insisting  _ boys will be boys _ , and that hers could do no wrong. She died when I was fifteen. Heart failure. Not  **my** doing,  _ I assure you. _ "

The grin of fond memories vanished now.

"Now, my father, if you could call him that, was another story entirely. He was a man who went through life so intoxicated on alcohol he never seemed to know where he was or why he was there. Often times I imagined he wasn't even aware he had a  **son** . But mother kept him supplied in his poison, even when we couldn't afford it. More than thrice we'd have our electricity shut off because we couldn't pay the bill, oh,  _ but father had his alcohol, _ alright."

Crane sneered out of the windshield through the driving rain and then added in a mutter,

"I suppose I should only be  **thankful** he was never a violent drunk. Just a **stupid** one." His expression cleared then, into one of resigned optimism, and he sighed.

"But I haven't heard from him in, oh,  _ fifteen years or better. _ I doubt he's even still alive, probably found dead in some back alley, done in by alcohol poisoning, no doubt."

The amused half smirk had found its way back to Crane's face at the thought.

Jervis, meanwhile listened and felt enthralled by the talk of what Jonathan was like in his youth... even if the mention of both of the professor's parents were troublesome in their own way.

"...You mother sounded like someone who appreciated a little mischief in her life." Something the Englishman supposed he shared in common with the woman. He quickly pushed past that thought all the same. "Still, to not know where one's parents stood... If you don't care about your father's well being, then I suppose one shouldn't give much thought to  **their** opinions."

Jervis swallowed, finding himself looking out the window-- the streetlights passing by catching his attention as he voiced his own feelings on the matter.

"Despite everything that was said, despite the truths I've  **now** learned... I don't think it has diminished my love for them. Knowing the way things were doesn't change that I grew up believing I was cherished and cared for. I really was a happy child, you know, if perhaps a very worried one." 

Hatter leaned his head against the glass, the coolness of it a pleasant contrast to the heat inside the truck. 

"It... would be easier if I didn't still want for their approval. A part of me can't help but wish they had told me I would be allowed that second chance. I would have thrown away my freedom and happiness just for it. Despite how liberated I've felt, despite the sense of control I've acquired in my life since donning my hat--  _ all the wonderful cast of characters I've met since falling down the rabbit hole _ ... If they said it was possible, I think I would have  **tried** ...  _ Silly, isn't it? _ To know I'm a man destined to continuously chase something I could never have? Love, control-- my madness isn't a lack of boundaries, Jonathan.  _ My madness is craving it despite what life has told me otherwise." _

Jonathan turned the heat off completely now, the sound of the rain outside against the roof of the truck filling in where the sound of the whirring vents had been.

"It's alright to still love them, Jervis. Bitterness, hate, resentment, these are all powerful emotions, but they're _ easy. _ It takes a strong mind and constitution to forgive." A pause, and another sigh, this one almost theatrically long and loud.

"You know, you speak of control, when you could so easily have the entire city under your control, every citizen under your thumb. But I don't think you want it. And I don't think you want a, so called normal life, either. Sure, perhaps a nice little house in the hills of Metropolis, a nice wife, a child or two, it may all sound delightful. But don't you think you'd  **tire** of it eventually? Has Gotham, in all its chaotic excitement, not filled you with a need for it in your life? Has being known as one of this city's most powerful, infamous rogues not given you some sense of intoxicating power? Could you really give it all up to live in mundania, mowing the lawn twice weekly, the most excitement in your life spotting a new type of bird on your way to the office, all so you may have a chance at making your parents  **proud?** Parents who,  _ even if they had given you a second chance mind you _ , have made it  **perfectly clear** your worth to them happens to be in direct correspondence to your  **prestige** in the papers? Would it  **really** be worth it to you? Because if it would..."

His tone had risen steadily through that rant, it was really no wonder why he'd never been any good with comforting others. But when he spoke again, it was calm. They pulled up behind factory  _ sweet factory _ , and he shut off the truck.

"Then I will help you achieve it. Whatever we need to do. Forging papers, moving you to a different city, we'll do it. If it means that much to you. It's the least of what I owe you after... all you've done for me."

While his offer _ was _ sincere, the clenching dread in his chest told him he really hoped Jervis wouldn't take him up on it. If two weeks without the Mad Hatter had almost been the end of him, having him disappear from his life all together was not likely to result in a happy ending.

Jervis' eyes opened very wide upon hearing this.

"You... you would go through all that trouble for me?"

_ The offer was tantalizing _ , as was the man who offered it. It would have been so simple. Take the chance at a clean slate, it was what he had wanted, after all. The reason he had robbed the city's finest-- even the likes of his former employer, though that had been a hard choice for him in the end. The lure of running off, with not a worry or care to follow him. And the addition of having the chance to cozy up with a sweetheart, to live the life he was promised so long ago-- truly becoming one with the American Dream. Never to see the likes of Gotham ever again.

Nor those he had grown to cherish.

"I appreciate the offer Jonathan, yet... I have to agree with you. While there are many aspects in what you mentioned that  **does** speak to me-- the ability to start a family among them. I must admit... while I have my moment of melancholy,  _ as do we all _ , I don't wish to give up the things I've gained quite yet." 

It was time for Jervis to share another bit of himself, one mentioned before in passing. 

"Perhaps you've always had the confidence to be yourself, my dear, but the same could not be said for myself. I lived in fear that if I didn't look a certain way, carry myself in the right manner... I would be ripe for ridicule. That being myself would simply add onto the reasons why I was  **alone.** So I took notice of what was and wasn't proper behavior. Outside of a slip of a reference here and there, I had done it. I was simply another cog in the machine. Another drone who so desperately hoped could buzz about like the others, maybe someday find the  _ special honey _ I craved. "

The smile the Englishman gave didn't meet his eyes, it feeling more bitter than genuine.

"I did what was asked of me, suppressed anything that would have made me the slightest bit odd. And for  **what?** To despise that which I had become? To be just as alone,  _ with the helpful side of misery along with it _ ? 

"You're right, I tried the mundane. To live with another's sense or order-- right and wrong. And then I met someone who I thought I could at least try to be a better version of myself for. To let out the whimsy I had locked away inside. You, of course know how that turned in the end. Yet... yet  **look** at me, Jonathan! It was like unraveling a new suit out of its packaging. You might stain it a little, gain a few wrinkles, but it's being  **USED** . I have lived more  **now** than I have in all near 40 years of my life!"

The smile slipped from his face, Hatter's features painted with his pain.

"Yet being myself has made me lose so much as well. What's to say it won't continue to do so? I love this life I have created with you, however, I can't help but feel... Feel that I'm somehow on the verge of spoiling  **that** too."

Crane found immense comfort in Jervis' reply. He didn't want to leave. The clenching in his chest lessened and he relaxed the more Jervis went on. That was, until the man's choice in phrasing struck a strange nerve.

_ ‘I love this life I have created with you.’ _

It sounded so... intimate. Not words to be spoken between two, unattached rogues who happen to be boarding together. Of course, he was aware Jervis had simply chosen the incorrect words, but Jonathan allowed himself the guilty, giddy warmth they'd caused. There was no harm in it.

"And why do you believe that?" Crane asked, still riding this intriguing high, causing the way in which he'd said it to sound optimistically curious, rather than concerned.

Quite naturally, the rogue couldn't say the exact reason for this particular fear. What, was the man to admit his feelings for his friend then and there-- having his self fulfilling prophecy reach its conclusion?  **No** ... not today.  _ Not ever _ , if Jervis Tetch could so help it. However... the Englishman felt he owed the man some sort of semblance of the truth. Something of worth that would be enough of an answer to his Hare's query.

"... Surely you've noticed I have a habit of taking things too far? Boundaries and I, well, they're hard for me to manage them. Give me an inch, and next I'll be taking the mile. Never once have I asked you if you enjoy me puttering over you. Dressing you up, playing the life of a domestic. I assume you'd tell me if you were particularly bothered, but I never inquired if any of this was what you wished for. It's only dawning on me  **now** that I should have, to begin with."

Jervis sighed.

"Do you remember the night that started all of this? You were quite ill, so I wouldn't be at all surprised if you didn't. However, you told me that  **I** was the only one you could trust. You begged of me to stay by your side-- and I will admit feeling wanted did much for my ego, my dear. So I stayed because it was the first time anyone ever spent as much time as we had together-- in  _ Arkham and out- _ \- and you didn't tire of me. That feeling of another wanting you around-- it's quite  _ intoxicating _ , isn't it?"

The Englishman looked his companion in the eyes, his expression very much as serious as the words he uttered. It was time for the sentiments to sour.

"But what if someday you've decided you had enough? You are a man of solitude, I have enough awareness of that as I do my best to keep out of your way while you're working. But what if eventually you decided you're were quite  **finished** \-- and I simply had to accept that? I would like to hope that I have changed enough that I  **would** . That I would put up with anything simply to make you **happy** ... Yet,  _ putting others before ourselves is  _ **_not_ ** _ how we ended up where we are today, Jonathan. _ While I can wish, and pray that I won't fall back onto hard habits... I can't promise you that it  **will** be the reality. And the fact I can't say, with all certainty, that I wouldn't  **attempt** such a thing..." Jervis' tones grew soft, punctuating his thoughts with a final whisper of: " _ it frightens me _ ."

A chill ran down Crane's spine then, and he couldn't be certain if it had been from the quickly cooling truck, Jervis' admittance of fear, or the thought of becoming a mindless puppet in the future. Growing such a dependence on a man known for destroying the minds of those who didn't play along was as  **dangerous** as it was **stupid** . But, as Edward had said, the heart wanted what it wanted, logic and reasoning be  **damned** .

"If I didn't enjoy your doting, I would have rejected it by now, you know. If I didn't appreciate you purchasing me attire, I wouldn't be wearing it. And if I didn't want you so close while we slumber,  _ I wouldn't have lost so much sleep in your absence." _

Jervis hadn't even mentioned that last one, but Crane felt it needed to be said.

"I fear I, too, have become... hooked, as it were, on the notion of my presence being appreciated for once, rather than feared and dreaded. I do appreciate my solitude, Jervis, and I can't promise I won't storm off at some point, for one reason or another. But I can assure you, I will return, in due time. Even Fear Incarnate can't help but come back to the one place he is appreciated."

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle now, and Crane reached over to open his door.

"Leave your bag in the truck for now if you'd like, we can send Miriam out to fetch it later." He slid out and turned around to give Jervis a look, raising a brow.

"Oh and, by the way, should you feel the need to take control of me in the future, promise me you won't use your cards to do so. I'd much rather be here for it."

He flashed a quick, lopsided smirk, and shut the door, turning to head inside.

The Englishman simply stared in silence, not sure which of the comments to process first. The latter confused Jervis, as if it had no sort of meaning to it-- ‘ _ and yet it was certainly English. _ ’ What did make sense to him was the mention of their sleeping arrangements-- the very thing that had brought him awkwardness upon his discovery of his feelings for the other man. Jonathan’s declaration of his enjoyment of it was both enough to silence any qualms that Hatter had over the matter, just as much as it made his heart thump heavily in his chest from it. 

‘ _ Remember, Jervis _ ,’ the man mentally scolded himself, doing his best to open the truck door and hop out from it, ‘there is a perfectly logical explanation for everything said. For every single sentiment. You needn’t make it into anything bigger than what it is. You needn’t twist and mangle the facts.’

Yet… that still left him terribly confused and frazzled-- with not a single way to begin answering the riddles set before him. Perhaps it was the likes of those devised by Carroll--  _ of ravens and writing desks _ \-- where one simply didn’t **exist** . 

It was out in Gotham’s night air-- following Jonathan back into the welcoming structure of their factory home-- that Jervis decided perhaps it was time to search for those answers. And if none truly existed to his queries, well… There was no reason he couldn’t devise his own.


End file.
